


A Fine Mess

by sailorcreampuff



Category: Glanni Glæpur í Latabæ, Latabæ, LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Breathplay, Choking, Dirty Talk, Glanni Glaepur, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Threats of Violence, this is so niche, this isn't what mother wanted for me, wow I just realized how many kinks this has
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorcreampuff/pseuds/sailorcreampuff
Summary: Pretty much just a shameless PWP, although there's a little bit of a plot if you squint. Íþró and Glanni confront each other and things quickly get out of hand.





	

                Íþróttaálfurinn sprinted his way across the rooftops, briefly glancing down each road in pursuit of the leather-clad criminal. Street-smart as Glanni may have been, there was nowhere for him to hide. The elf could rush over any surface and still avoid detection, as quiet as a mouse. Glanni heard a few pounding footsteps, but before he could realize what was going on, the other man sprang into his path. He yelped, then smacked his hand over his mouth.

                "Hello!" Íþró said with mock cheerfulness. His smile quickly faded. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Glæpur."

                As much as he tried to disguise it, Glanni's face was panic-stricken. He was breathing heavily, both from the exhaustion of being chased and simply out of fear. Running in heels had been a bad idea. He collected himself fairly quickly, however, tilting his chin upwards with a catlike grin. He was, if nothing else, a smooth talker and a brilliant actor.

                "Looking for me?" He hummed. "What for? Did you miss me?"

                "Oh, I don't know, you could say that."

                The men's words were casual and light, heavily contrasting the thick air of tension that hung between them. "I hope you'll get used to running into me. After all, I'm the last thing you're ever going to see."

                Glanni rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Some compassionate hero you're behaving like. What would the kids think...?"

                "It doesn't matter." Íþró deadpanned. His eyes were fixed on Glanni's. Another brief wave of fear showed itself in his expression. "Nobody's here."

                He grabbed the other man by the collar and shoved his back against the damp brick wall. "You can cry for help all you'd like. Even if anyone hears you, you're a criminal. Everyone knows who you are, and you'll be taken in to rot." When there was no immediate reply, he pressed his fists in harder, prompting Glanni to choke a bit before coughing out a reply.

                "Why don't you get it over with, you miserable cow?" He spat. "You sure are taking your sweet time. Just kill me if that's what you want. Unless it _isn't_?"

His remark actually gave Íþróttaálfurinn pause. The taller man smirked. "Well?"

                "You'll be lucky if you aren't dead by the end of the night." Was all he replied, with less confidence in his voice than before.

                "Oh, really? Does that mean you're planning on spending the _whole night_ with me, Íþróttaálfurinn?"

                Another point for Glanni. Íþró glared at him with piercing blue eyes, as if trying to decide on killing him now or later. He yanked Glanni towards him, then pushed him away just as quickly, as if expecting something.

                "What?" Glanni asked, caught off-guard.

                "…Where are you staying?"

                He snickered. "Pathetic. Is this your way of-" He was cut off by a hard slap to the jaw. It immediately stung, and he swore under his breath at the lingering pain. At least nothing seemed broken. He wiped his face to make sure he hadn't bled anywhere and scowled.

                "You're going to lead us there." Íþró gripped his wrist tighter (when had his hand gotten there?) and twisted it just roughly enough to serve as a warning. "Or I'm going to make you regret it. Am I clear?"

                "Sure." He huffed. The elf let him go, and he jerked his arm back to his side. He walked stiffly, rubbing his sore wrist. The way he stomped almost made him look like a pouty child on his way to go clean his room.

                They entered the neighborhood through a gate, and Glanni stopped in front of a surprisingly nice-looking building just a block or two from the town square. He crossed his arms and sighed at Íþró's apparent confusion. "What? Did you expect some worn-down hotel room? I'm a celebrity here, remember?" He dug out his keys and opened the front door, seeming impatient. He let the other man inside and flicked on the lights. 

                There was a coat hanger by the door holding his extravagant pink jacket, and a dresser in the corner by his bed. A lamp, a couch, a few windows. The lack of furniture made it apparent that Glanni was not a permanent resident. Despite how small it was, though, it was well taken care of and clearly on the expensive side.

                The taller man kicked off his heels with ease, leaving them by the door. Íþró turned to him and met Glanni’s eyes, which were blinking awkwardly. He took a few careful steps forward, and Glanni took a few back. "What?" He said indignantly, attempting to exaggerate his size by puffing out his shoulders. “We’re here. Make yourself at home.”

                Íþró took him by the wrists with surprising gentleness and guided him towards the wall. “You’re not going to say anything? Just jumping right in, are we?” He must have really thought it was that easy, Glanni thought with repulsion. He wriggled his arms to try and free himself, but apparently that was the wrong move. Íþró's hands relocated to his shoulders and his back was slammed hard against the wall, his head following with it. Glanni growled and struggled harder, no longer enjoying their little game. But then, out of everything he could have done, Íþró pressed their lips together.

                The roughness of it was not unpleasant, he mused, and he found himself kissing back, albeit with less fervor. His lipstick was smearing everywhere. Yes, the other man did seem to be an experienced kisser. A bit clumsy, though. And definitely awkward. Glanni grinned and held him back for a moment once he had a little more freedom of movement. 

                "Just because you see something work in porn, doesn't mean it's going to work in real life, you poor creep." Íþró froze. It was perfect, a solid blow to his ego. He continued. "You must be pretty desperate if you have to blackmail a criminal just so you can get-" There were suddenly hands around his neck.

                Íþróttaálfurinn squeezed the sides of his neck so hard, so fast that Glanni's vision went spotty. He couldn't breathe. He was let go for a few seconds to take a gulp of air, but immediately trapped again by two very strong arms. A few more rounds and he was released. He coughed loudly. "You're an idiot," He wheezed.

                "You were getting a little chatty for my taste, Glæpur." He said simply. He actually seemed taller when the other man was slumped against the wall, regaining his breath.

                "Listen to me. If you keep refusing to cooperate, you'll only make things worse for yourself. Talk any more shit," He warned, "And I'll choke you until you can't speak at all."

                Glanni's face was sweatier than he would've liked. He was unsure what to say next, so he swallowed and decided on a nod.

                "Good." He went on kissing him, hard, pinning him down, and Glanni realized with disgust that he was getting some enjoyment out of this. His tight catsuit made such a fact difficult to hide, so he tried to distract the elf by kissing him back. A growl sounded low in his throat. His low-pitched noises seemed to excite Íþró, at least.

                Íþró broke the kiss for air, looking down at a flushed Glanni. He was breathing heavier than before, and if he wasn't mistaken...

                Íþróttaálfurinn stuck his knee in-between the other man's legs and felt his crotch. He was half-hard. The shorter man smiled condescendingly. "You actually like this?" He pressed his knee up further.

                "A-Ah!" Glanni gasped, stupidly. He hated this and he hated Íþróttaálfurinn. And he really hated how the bastard was looking up at him with that grin on his face.

                "I thought I was supposed to be the pathetic one." He sneered. "Disgusting. You can take care of yourself, of course, but only once I'm done with you."

                He brushed his knuckles lightly against Glanni's collarbone and unzipped his catsuit a few inches. The taller man looked down at him frantically, almost like he was shy, but made no move to stop him this time. 

                He started placing kisses all over his neck, nipping a few areas with his teeth just to hear Glanni's sharp breaths. He was finally melting under his touch the way he wanted him to from the start. He left a couple of marks before exposing the man's pale chest and stomach. Glanni tried to pull off his own sleeves, but Íþró waved his hands away and removed them himself.

                "At least let me... do that." He muttered defeatedly.

                "Sorry." He reached behind his back to get the rest of the difficult piece of clothing off already, and Glanni was exposed in all his glory, save for a pair of purple boxers. Íþróttaálfurinn marveled at the sight for a few moments, taking in his long, thin frame and mostly clear skin. The other man's face burned. "Shouldn't we do this on the bed?"

                "I... yeah." He said regretfully, and before Glanni could move, he was scooped up in the elf's arms and tossed onto the mattress. It was his turn to watch the shorter man undress and, loathe as he was to admit it, he was in excellent shape. His eyes lingered on his strong build for a little longer than he'd expected. This might not be so bad after all. Upon undressing completely, Glanni noticed just how hard the other man was. Íþró got on the bed and on his knees.

                "O-Oh." Was all Glanni could say in his pitiful fascination.

                "Now you're going to suck me off like the little whore you are." He said lowly, grabbing the back of the taller man's head and pulling him down closer. "I'm sure you won't mind. You do this all the time, don't you."

                It was hard to say whether Glanni was infuriated or turned on by his words, but it was likely a mix of both. He took a long, experimental lick up Íþró's cock. It was enough to make him shudder and then sigh in content. He took the head into his mouth and sucked. He started lightly, teasing, but the other man became impatient and forced his head down. Glanni nearly choked, but he kept going, taking quick, angry strokes with his tongue.

                "You must be a slut for anyone who asks if you're this good. Is that where you got all that money?" Glanni moved his head faster up and down, half of his own volition and half from getting yanked by his hair. "What, do you go out and volunteer to be gang-banged?" He murmured. "Take several cocks at once because you need it that bad?"

                Íþró was starting to thrust his hips upwards, gradually pushing deeper into the other man's throat. Glanni was gagging quite often now, and he became desperate, palming himself through his boxers with one hand.

                "Good boy." Íþróttaálfurinn was biting his lip and his eyes were half-lidded as he stared down and watched himself fuck Glanni's face over and over.

                The sight was too much for him. He bucked a few times, faster, before letting out a cry and cumming in the other man's throat. Glanni swallowed, with a few drops still dribbling onto his chin. He removed his lips from Íþró's dick and took deep breaths, incredibly aroused and a little disappointed from what he'd done.

                He had to admit to himself how hot he found it that the man who claimed to be his greatest enemy had came for him, and only him. He was disappointed, however, by the lack of moaning he'd heard after all his efforts.

                "Lay down." He commanded, once he'd had an idea.

                He tried to deny him, but was weak after just having orgasmed. "I'm the one giving orders, Glanni."

                "Come on... let me take care of you." He said sweetly. He lightly laid him down and pulled off his own underwear, which to his amusement, had Íþróttaálfurinn staring, his mouth parted open.

                Glanni rose to his knees and spread his legs. Íþró actually looked a bit confused, a light blush covering his face.

                "You're so cute like this." He chuckled. "Let me ride you."

                There was a moment's pause between the two as they gazed at one another. Íþróttaálfurinn's blue eyes were still wide and wonderstruck. Glanni shifted his weight onto the shorter man's lap, straddling his torso.

                Íþró blinked a few times and seemed to snap out of his previous trance. "Wait. Glanni, we shouldn't, I..."

                "You're just now having second thoughts about screwing a wanted man?" He crooned. He was slowly grinding his hips as he spoke. "And since when do you call me by my first name?"

                Íþró was extremely flustered now, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. Glanni took the opportunity to start fingering himself, reacting theatrically to his own touch just to see the other man's reaction. 

                Íþróttaálfurinn grabbed the other man's thighs, and it came to Glanni's attention that he was fully erect again. "One second." He smirked, getting up and off of the bed.

                He heard Íþró practically whine, a sad and pitiful noise. He opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube that, yes, he always took with him on his travels. "Calm down, I'm coming back." He purred.

                He sat on the edge of the bed and was grabbed before he could get off the cap. Íþró's arms wrapped themselves around his waist, hands tracing the small of his back. They were kissing again. Glanni pulled away.

                "Quit it, you big…! I haven't even gotten the lid off yet!" He was left a bit breathless from the other man's sudden actions, but using lube would make things infinitely more comfortable for him. He popped off the lid and placed the jar by the nightstand, dipping his fingers inside.

                He lathered the substance onto Íþró's dick, causing him to tremble and hold back a gasp. Glanni purposely rubbed it in slower.

                "Don't hold anything back. I think it's hot when guys are vocal while they're fucking me." He assured smoothly. A few more teasing massages. "Okay, I'm ready."

                "Good." Íþró sat up and pushed Glanni down lightly into the mattress.

                "Wait, this isn't what..."

                "I'd rather do it like this."

                Glanni was lying face-up with his legs spread, the other man positioned in-between them.

                "Well, I can't fault your enthusiasm." He remarked drily. He was pretty irritated that he wasn’t going to top this time. "But this won't be nearly as fun, you know."

                Íþró rubbed his inner thighs, making circles with his thumbs. He had just about the cockiest expression Glanni had ever seen. "Are you sure?"

                "Y-Yes."

                He gradually entered Glanni, filling him as far as he could go. Glanni moaned, loudly and involuntarily, before covering his face with his hands. It didn't do any good, though- even the tips of his ears were pink. 

                "...Keep doing that."

                He withdrew himself and gave another thrust, Glanni crying out once more. He built up a slow pace, the taller man's voice matching his movements in a series of short, sharp noises. Glanni was sort of growling, but it sounded more like… purring. Just when they had synced together so nicely, Íþró slowed to a stop.

                "Why'd you stop?" Glanni breathed. "I was actually starting to enjoy that."

                "I want you to beg for me."

                His eyes widened. "H-Huh...?"

                "Tell me what you want."

                "But..." He swallowed. His voice was shaky. "I can't just..."

                Íþró bucked his hips a few times and Glanni cut himself off with his own moaning again. His gray eyes looked anywhere but at him. "Please." He mumbled.

                "Hm?" Íþró prompted, still fucking him slowly.  

                Glanni's eyes watered, yet still averted his gaze. "I-I want you. Please."

                He exhaled sharply, but was still unsatisfied. "Louder."

                "Í... Íþróttaálfurinn. I..." He was biting his lip so hard it felt like it might bleed. Maybe it did. He tried so hard to cling to his last bit of pride to no avail. He was a shaking mess, and it didn't matter how it happened, he just needed to cum. And it needed to happen by Íþró’s filthy hands.

                "I-I want you to fuck me." He mewled. "Please… Íþróttaálfurinn. I need you so badly. It… it has to be you."

                He was soon after pounded hard against the headboard, and couldn't seem to stop himself from rambling as he took Íþró's cock. "Please, harder," He whined. “I… ah! Don’t stop!” It was repulsive how he enjoyed this, he knew, and was unsure whether he despised himself or Íþró more for going through with this. It was wrong in every way and yet it was all he wanted. The awfulness of the situation somehow made it all the more arousing.

                “Fuck, Glanni…” Hearing his name, Glanni clutched the sheets until his knuckles turned white and he came, splattering all over Íþró's stomach. He’d apparently underestimated how close he was, looking sheepishly up at the other man. His final shouts had probably woken up half the town, but he was too tired to care. Íþróttaálfurinn climaxed soon after seeing Glanni looking so dirty and _used_ underneath him. They remained in place for a few moments, breathing heavily. 

                Once Glanni had recovered his stamina, he pulled himself underneath the covers without bothering to put any clothes on. Íþró hesitated, unsure where to go next. He pulled his boxers back on and glanced at the back of the other man's head.

                "Just stay." Glanni said irritably. "I know you want to."

                So he slumped down on the bed and curled himself up behind him. It was comfortably warm, if Glanni was honest with himself. Yet he wondered why, if this was so impersonal, he felt so safe. He was utterly frustrated with his own naïveté, but he convinced himself he'd feel better when he woke up and Íþróttaálfurinn was gone. Hopefully he would be.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing smut actually, so I'm sorry if it wasn't the best! Actually while writing this I kind of wanted to leave it open for like a short series, but only if people like the story. Lemme know what you thought!


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